


Love you to death

by Trash



Category: Linkin Park
Genre: Angst, Humiliation, M/M, Murder, Rape, Transitioning, girl!Chester, mtf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-09 10:17:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1144796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash/pseuds/Trash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some people just don't get what they want</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love you to death

 

Chester walks through the living room to the kitchen, his hands up at his ear fastening his earring awkwardly. And Brad looks away from Dr. Phil on TV long enough to point out, “You’re dressed like a woman again.”

 

Chester’s black, Gucci sandals click against the tile of the kitchen floor, drowning out the name of Dr. Phil’s next guest. Brad turns up the volume and Chester has to shout to be heard. “I have a date!” He yells.

 

Dr. Phil says, “How long have you been in love with your brother?”

 

Chester, still shouting, pokes his head around the doorway as he fastens his other earring, “Don’t you care who I’m going on a date with?”

 

Brad shrugs, “Not really. You know I’ll only get jealous.”

 

“Ha. Did you know that sarcasm causes tumours?”

 

It used to be that Brad had a witty reply to out-do any of Chester’s comebacks. Now, though, Chester has breast implants and his bottom ribs missing. And Brad has Dr. Phil.

 

Chester’s heels click in from the kitchen onto the parquet of the living room. He stands behind where Brad lounges on the sofa in his underwear and says, “Hey. Do you really not care?”

 

Dr. Phil leans forward in his chair and says, “We have the evidence, Susan, of your sexual advances toward your sibling.”

 

“Brad!”

 

Chester moves to block his view of Dr. Phil. His dress is black and clings to his artificial curves. His nails and his lips are red. His eyes are smoky with eyeliner and shadow. His wig, chocolate brown and loosely curled and falling half way down his back.

 

He looks…amazing. But still. Brad knows what is under the dressed, knows that Chester’s secret can only be a secret for so long – that he can’t fool anybody. Even if, once upon a time, he fooled Brad.

 

Chester shifts his weight, irritated. Puts his hands on his hips.

 

Brad says, “I like your manicure.”

 

This throws Chester who stares, confused.

 

“See?” Brad says, “I do care. Just don’t expect me to die of happiness every time you pull.”

 

“Why? Are you jealous? It’s not like you ever gave a shit before.”

 

“You’re blocking the TV.”

 

Chester scowls. “Fuck you.”

 

Brad listens to the heels of Chester’s sandals as he stomps out of the room and back upstairs. On the TV, Susan the incest chick is crying and begging her repulsed mother for forgiveness.

 

Outside a car horn toots twice.

 

The front door slams.

 

And Brad says to the empty house, “You look beautiful. Don’t go out. Stay home. I love you.”

 

And Susan the incest chick’s mom goes, “It’s too little too late, bitch.”

 

***

 

Chester climbs out of the car as they pull up outside his date’s house. Dave, his name is, but when they met he kissed Chester’s knuckles and said, “Call me Phoenix.”

 

Endearing. An Chester giggled, “Call me Crystal.” Then, fishing out a card from his purse, “Actually. Just call me.”

 

And Dave had. They talked for a long time whilst Brad was at work and Chester would happily admit that he had fallen head-over-heels in love with this guy.

 

Dave lets him into his apartment, takes his coat. “Would you like a glass of wine?”

 

Chester nods and puts down his purse. “I’d love one, thank you.” He follows Dave into the kitchen and perches on the edge of a stool at the breakfast bar. Dave grabs two wine glasses and fills them both with Chardonnay. Chester takes one with a smile and sips it. He wishes he knew more about wine. It’s sophisticated, he thinks, if you know more than just what goes well with Premarin.

 

When he finished one glass Dave is quick to top it up. Chester should have noticed, Dave never finished his own. But wine always got him toasted.

 

Drunk, he says, “Dave. David? Phoenix?”

 

He goes to say, ‘I’m in the last stages of my real life training and in a few months I’ll be undergoing the final part of my gender reassignment surgery.’

 

He wants to say ‘My breasts were store bought. So was my nose, my jaw line, my voice. I’m pumped full of conjugated estrogens and my back hurts. But I’m half way to happy and I don’t want us to have secrets. So love me or leave me.’

 

He wants to tell Dave, ‘Brad couldn’t take it. He’s not gay and he won’t love me. Not even as a woman. So you have to.’

 

There is no dignity in unhappiness, in total desperation. And Chester isn’t trying to keep his misery a secret.

 

He wants to say, ‘Give me a chance.’

 

But Dave stabs him with a kitchen knife before he gets a chance.

 

***

 

The blood will never come out of this dress is all Chester can think about as Dave winds a length of electrical tape around is wrists. That, and, Brad is so going to laugh at him.

 

It’s not until Dave starts unfastening his dress that panic sets in.

 

“No,” he cries desperately. “Please…Phi…”

 

Dave laughs and continues tugging at Chester’s clothes. “Don’t call me that, you stupid whore.”

 

Rough hands tear the fabric of his dress from where it has stuck to the wound on his abdomen. He cries out in agony and arches his back as the pain sweeps over him again.

 

Above him Dave is grinning and shaking his head. “Well, well.  _Crystal_.” he reaches between Chester’s legs to grasp his cock roughly.

 

The pain, the shock, all of it is making him delirious. But he knows this isn’t how he wants to die – exposed. Ugly.

 

But he never got what he wanted as a kid. He wanted Brad to love him. You know? Some people just aren’t lucky.

 

At least Dave isn’t disgusted. Fucks him hard. Every thrust making him think he’ll surely pass out soon. He spits out, angrily, “I trusted you. You’re a fucking monster.”

 

“No,” Dave says, one hand on Chester’s dick, the other on his tit. “No.  _You_  are the monster.”


End file.
